Next time, I am not answering questions

The last few days have been nutty.  On Wednesday at work one of my students punched me in the ribs (he lost his pen and freaked out and I was in the way).  At first it didn’t really hurt, and then, it did.  So, of course, being pregnant and easily worried, I called my doctor’s office to just make sure everything would be fine.

The call itself went fine, I think the doctor thought I was kidding.  They of course told me to come in so they could do some observations and said not to drive myself.  So finding someone at my new job to drive me that I know well enough to ask to drive me 30 minutes away was kinda hard.  In the end, I did find someone and I was glad that she was so nice.

We got to the doctor’s office and sat for a while until the called me back only to say they were sending me over to labor and delivery.

The poor lady who came with me then of course felt obligated to stay until my husband came with the kids.  Needless to say this very kind lady ended up with more information about me (my birthday, my address, my life story), my sex life (no I had not had sex in the last 24 hours, no I was not being forced to have sex against my will or being hurt physically/emotionally), and my child birthing history (yes, I have 2 children, vaginally delivered, yes this was indeed my 4th pregnancy, no I wasn’t still hiding #4 in the closet or anything)  than she could possibly want to know, even if I am the new lady on campus, see I bet you didn’t really wanna know all that either.

So in the hospital they hooked me up to monitors, checked my blood pressure, and the doctor came in all roughly around the same time.  It was crazy and overwhelming and of course he starts in with a new round of questions and so I say things I don’t want to say, that make him give me this look of worry and then say “well we just need to run a few additional tests, so hunker down for a while.”  At this point my husband still hasn’t left home and I am just sitting there wishing that had remembered to wear nicer underwear today.

Trying to end the obligation and let this poor woman go home I tell her my husband is sure to be here soon and that she can go home, no big deal.  I promise. She, being the uber nice lady she is, stayed strong and continued to wait.

When my husband does come (about 2 hours in), I almost forgot to introduce them.  It was a weird situation.

As it turns out, this was a very long night of the” hurry up wait ” game and they made me stay overnight and it was this whole ordeal. As life works out, things went pretty well, just some crummy food, a lot of being woken up, and a few times pushing on my bruised ribs to make sure they felt better.  The baby is doing well, he is quite active, and seems to be happy in his little cocoon.

Only 74 days left.  Hopefully nothing else exciting happening in that time, other than my kitchen actually being finished.

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One Comment on “Next time, I am not answering questions”


  1. Oh, you’ll answer the questions all right…unless you want them to call in Social Services! I understand why they are overly-suspicious, but sometimes it is a real pain in the butt. I never minded it when they protected my kids, but I’m a grown-up fer peet’s sake!


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